For weeks and weeks. And weeks. I’ve been scared and stressed, filled with dread.

For what? You might ask.
I’m covered by a mask.

Sometimes I know.
Sometimes I don’t.

I walked into the exam room, not being able to concentrate on anything apart from how loud my heart was pounding. Maybe my tutor can hear it too. It’s. So. Loud. Freak. That’s me.

I could see the huge, intimidating mirror across the entire length of the room from the corner of my eye. The girl in the mirror stared back at me, her eyes were glazed with a clear blanket of water.

Breathe.

Collect yourself. It’s ok. It’s ok.

I don’t even understand why I feel nervous. Well actually, I do.

I don’t want to fail, I don’t want to fail myself or my tutor, I don’t want to make a fool out of my self, I want to do well. My obsessive practice has to be enough, doesn’t it? Maybe it wasn’t, maybe I don’t actually know what I’m doing, maybe I’m not good enough for this.

I turn away from the petrified girl in the mirror.

Breathe.

It’s hard, you know. Trying to go against every reaction your body wants you to have. It wanted me to panic. To fear. To run away. To give up.

My tutor looks at me, tells me he’s confident in me and knows I can do it.

He knows how nervous I can be. After all, I’ve had plenty of break downs in his midst. He knows it all to well.

You might think this is over reacting, but every time I need to do something that puts any sort of pressure on me, I freak out. I’m learning ways to help me cope with it though, I am trying.

This time, in particular, it was my vocal assessment singing six scales in different keys. Recorded. Kept forever. Judged. Looked back on. Graded.

It had been scaring me for weeks. Months probably. And it came.

I couldn’t fail. I just couldn’t.

Pressure.

And.

I nailed it.

Deep down, I knew. I knew what I was doing. I just didn’t trust myself. It happens every single time. I hope one day, through God’s strength, I’ll believe in myself fully.

Questions fly through my mind as I try to figure out why I feel so blind. Its dark.

Another nightmare?

It almost feels as though I’m still dreaming
but as I try to focus my eyes, I can see the outline of my bedside vines. I tilt my head to find my alarm I’ve double checked a hundred times.

3am.

Another nightmare.

As soon as I feel my shaking, sweating, slippery skin, I know.

Reoccurring dreams of my worst fear. This happens a lot, I should know. Why does it feel so near? Why is the terror so clear?

I’ve never experienced it but its always in my mind. Lurking, like it could jump out at any given time. My conscience won’t let me forget the things I dream when I’m alone, on my own, it’s out of my control.